The Pen or The Sword
by Sinful Hand
Summary: Luigi never wanted what Mario has wanted, but nonetheless he has gone along with whatever his older brother wanted regardless of his own feelings, but when they are transferred from their positions in the Mushroom castle Luigi is going to be forced into either finding his voice or losing everything. Fantasy A.U


"Come on fratello!" Mario taunted, moving forward with his cast iron hammer. His hammer had a strong handle wrapped in worn leather with a longer shaft with the head a chunk of iron. It was a fine battle hammer indeed especially in the hands of a skilled warrior such as himself. Luigi tried to reflect his blow with his broadsword. The weapon was rather big and sharp, made of refined metal and a sturdy hilt to support the weight, on its own a wonderful weapon, in the hands of Luigi it might as well have been made of wood. Luigi focused on stepping back glancing to the side. "I don't want to do this anymore Mario." He says, as he heard the hammer and his sword clash again, it was a loud and godawful noise that seemed to bounce off the trees that surrounded around them.  
"Keep your eyes on me." He says, ignoring his brother in favor of trying to help him to hone his skills. Luigi had a hard enough time keeping his sword up without being engaged like this, fighting really wasn't his style. Luigi felt it before he processed it fully, his ankle getting caught and him falling. Mario caught him before Luigi was sent tumbling down.  
"I'm sorry Mario." Luigi says, blushing in embarrassment a little bit. Mario was older, bigger, stronger and well better than him in all aspects and well he was just Luigi. Where Mario was shorter and stronger Luigi was taller and scrawnier, where Mario had courage and strategy Luigi had cowardice and panic. Mario was better and a long time ago he had accepted that fact he just wish that the comparisons would stop.  
"Don't be sorry, you just need practice." He says, pulling Luigi the rest of the way up without any troubles; that seemed to be his solution to everything, Luigi noted bitterly.  
"But I don't want to." He says, one handily brushing the dust off of his pastel green tunic.  
"Luigi, serving under the royals as Knights has always been our dream! And you're going to throw that away, because you don't want to practice?" Mario says, very sternly more like a parent to their child than a brother to brother, but also with the enthusiasm of an artist explaining the importance of color. Luigi lost his own voice, he tried to find the words to tell him that no he didn't want to be a knight and that serving the Royal kingdom was Mario's dream not his, Luigi much rather be something else, something that didn't involve fighting or battle, he would rather be a scholar surrounded by books, parchment, inks, quills and the thoughts of the greatest.

He opened his mouth to try and explain, but his tongue went stiff in his mouth, how could he ever make Mario understand? Mario who had beat up every bully, who had spent hours working out and wielding a mock hammer; Mario, whose life was his weapon. He respected that fighting was what his brother wanted, fighting and honor, but that was never a life that he wanted for himself. He took a deep breath looking at his brother's sad blue eyes, he had hurt his feelings he could see that. He widened his stance and lifted his sword, clanking the edge against the iron of his hammer, it took a moment for Mario to understand, but as soon as he did a smile crossed his face.  
He tried to do better, meet his brother blow for blow, tried to last as long as Mario could, but he could only get so far before he couldn't lift his sword with both of his hands before it slipped out of his weak grasp hitting the ground and his knees buckled underneath him as if he himself had gotten to heavy to even exist and soon he met the cold hard packed dirt. He was absolutely exhausted, he tried to get up and grasp his sword.  
"Luigi I think it's time we stop for now, it's getting dark and a fire is still yet to be made." Mario says, he was sure in that moment he had never heard sweeter words.  
As the fire flickered and the smoke rose to stars. He looked as his hands, his dominant right had blisters the size of quarters where he gripped the hilt, his left hand had smaller ones. He had never had so many blisters at once and they hurt. He wasn't built for wielding a sword he realized as he saw Mario's sleeping frame.  
That was four years ago, four years since they had set out from their home, since he had started his training, since they had proved their worth to be part of the Knights of the mushroom kingdom. He was stronger, faster, braver, or at least he would like to think so. It didn't feel right though, it felt forced and faked, especially when he hid books underneath his pillow and his chest. He felt like he was a drug addict, but instead of opium or molly it was ink and parchment and he couldn't get enough. Reading made him feel dirty and writing even more, but he couldn't stop himself from participating in these activities reserved to a more higher and elegant class. He didn't care much for over training or hanging out with the other knights at taverns and he had no interest of courting the many of elegant ladies of the castle, even if he did he didn't have his own courage. Everytime he fought, every time he drew his sword, he drew his courage from within, but from his brother, he honestly didn't think that he could stand a chance in a real battle without out him.

Maybe that was why he continued to turn page after page to escape that blaring truth. He sat in a corner of the castle flipping a page of a book he had picked up, Mario entered the room, he didn't understand what was so interesting about markings on a page, but he never berated him for it.

"Fratello, we are being transferred, we're going to be leaving tomorrow, special orders from The Princess Peach herself." He says, Luigi looked up and took a moment to process what Mario had just said. He sighed a shoved a piece of paper in the binding of his novel, he didn't mind that they were going to be transferred as long as it was together, so he rose from his spot and began to pack.


End file.
